Page 17 of Needed You

“It means that everyone in the Wolf Pack knows he had it bad for you when we were growing up.”

Lindsey laughs, and I shoot her an incredulous look.

Caleb’s brow creases, and he looks at Nolan. “What the hell are you smoking, dude?”

“Seriously?” Nolan says. “Okay, well, you guys all had your heads up your asses, then, because it was obvious as fuck to me.”

“You’re full of shit,” I tell him, then turn back to the stage, rattled and confused. Thankfully, Murky Soup starts another set and saves me from further conversation.

Chapter 10

Darian

“Darian! Daaarrriaannnnn!” my mother’s screeching voice yells up the stairs.

I’m in my room, just waking up and letting my first cup of coffee ooze through my veins when I hear her calling to me. She’s become sort of a nuisance when she does come by the house. Blowing out a breath and pushing back my chair, I stand up to go see the woman who birthed me.

“DARIAN!!” she yells again as I walk into the hallway and look to the bottom of the steps.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, gripping my coffee mug. It’s way too fucking much first thing in the morning.

“Oh, Darian. You’re up. I would certainly hope so.” Always with the backhanded comments. “I thought I might have woken you, even though the day is half over.” She’s looking like she’s had a full day already, dressed in a sleek black velour running suit with white sneakers, her hair and makeup perfect. She’s holding a pair of heels in her hand.

I walk down the steps to meet her in the living room. “It’s ten o’clock in the morning. I was getting logged into work,” I inform her. There’s no sense of joy in my voice. Neither for seeing her or having a conversation with her.

“Well, you look like you just woke up,” she says with a tsk. “I’m home from the wellness retreat in Cabo and need to get to the salon in an hour for my hair and nail appointment. Remember I leave again tomorrow for my Reiki and Yoga Balance seminar. It’s Thursday through next weekend. I’ll be gone just over a week, learning to balance my energy in Colorado. Isn’t that a wonderful place for a retreat like that?”

I stare at her. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?” I ask her flatly.

She lets out a chortling sound. “Well, before you’ll be awake if today is any indication. Darian, have you heard from your father at all?”

I just stare at her for a moment, taking her in, and that emptiness in my chest aches. I barely see her anymore. She’s aged, but it’s clear that she’s been trying to fight the process. She used to be so vibrant and full of joy. Her eyes always sparkled. That light slowly dimmed from them after Nate died. I can remember seeing it slowly fading out.

She still technically lives here, in our family home, but she’s often out for weeks at a time, rarely staying here. I haven’t had the mom I had as a kid since Nate’s death. Before, my mom was fun and involved, and we did a lot of things as a family. After Nate died, my mom couldn’t handle it. You would think that losing one son would draw you closer to your other son, but in our case, it did the opposite. Just like with my dad.

Even now, standing directly across from one another, she can’t give me a hug. I honestly can’t remember the last time she or my father touched me. God, I would kill for a hug from my mom right now, to feel that warmth of her body and know she cares about me.

I shake my head to answer her question and bring myself back to the present. “Not really. I think he was here a few days ago, but he didn’t stay,” I tell her, remembering a scribbled note on the counter from my dad about a week ago, just letting me know that he stopped in to trade out his suits. I don’t know what’s going on with my parents and their marriage, and I never ask. Frankly, I don’t care, but I wish that they would just talk to each other, not expect me to be the middleman.

Done talking, I turn and head into the kitchen to make myself another cup of coffee.

She huffs and yells after me, “Be a dear and take my suitcase upstairs for me, please.”

Be a dear? What the hell is that?

My mom is talking and acting like she’s part of some high-society, high-class crowd. We certainly aren’t hurting for money, but we aren’t part of the elite, either.

When my coffee is done, I begrudgingly grab her suitcase and walk it upstairs into her bedroom, mumbling under my breath, “Be a dear and take my suitcase upstairs for me.” With an exaggerated eye roll, I put her luggage on the floor in front of the bed that my parents used to share, walk back to my bedroom, and shut the door behind me.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice that my mom didn’t ask how I’m doing or what I’ve been busy with. She never asks any questions about my life or my interests or my job anymore. She just doesn’t seem to care. I guess the feeling is mutual.

Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if Nate hadn’t died. I wonder if we’d still be a normal family. What the hell even is a normal family? I know that I would probably have a home that was warm and welcoming, like it used to be. I know that my brother and I would be close and do things together. I wonder if he’d have a girlfriend or a wife by now? Any kids? Would I be Uncle Dare? I chuckle at the thought. I’d make an awesome uncle.

Taking a large drink of my coffee, I ignore my mother’s presence downstairs and start to get some work done.

The meetings, idea boards, and mock-ups that I have to do today make the day go by quickly. When I feel like I can’t look at any more text or graphics, I log off and take a shower. I haven’t heard anything else from my mom, and I don’t expect to, so I pick up my phone and pull up my social media app.

My first search is Lev. I feel this weird draw to him. The same draw that was there when we were younger. I want to see what he’s been up to, which was my intention last time I looked at this page, but then I got, um, distracted.